


Breach of Reserve

by nonky



Series: Breach of Resolve [2]
Category: Blindspot (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9610538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonky/pseuds/nonky
Summary: Sandstorm had read everything wrong, thrown off hundreds of times because they expected Jane to echo Remi's steel. They'd seen a seduction instead of a double-edged sword falling on a couple mid-embrace.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Tone inspired by "Tomorrow" by Daughter.

Her tolerance for gentleness was practically zero, like the soft easing of a man's knuckles down her sternum could break secret internal parts that grew strong in other women.

The exhaustion that wouldn't leave her took hold fast. Jane lost herself between one breath and the next, and woke up to feel Kurt moving gently at her back. He had pulled away a bit, and righted them from the sideways sprawl across her bed. They were lying lengthwise, under the covers. He was tracing some of the tattoos, and she tried to relax. 

Kurt's nose nuzzled under her messy hair, and he inhaled with a hum she recognized as a compliment. His body came right up against her and he was getting hard pressed to her ass. 

Jane shivered. She needed him to leave. Her body was alight with warm, aching places that glowed for him to be all over her. Emotionally, she needed Kurt Weller to be far away until she could settle the facts inside her mind. 

He'd helped along the lie of being Taylor. He'd turned on her without letting her speak for herself. He'd arrested her and then she'd been handed off to the CIA. Her careful protector had turned into an angry, wrathful robot who disregarded every moral grey area she'd struggled to reconcile. 

Kurt's hand slipped down her belly and teased at the line of her closed legs. She hated the playful way his fingers went all to way to her knees and how he laid a pointless kiss on her upper arm, as if he loved her. 

She couldn't afford to start over. Roman was in an FBI cell. She needed her place with the team. For a wretched few seconds she thought back to her torture. Resisting only encouraged her captors. The sex had felt good. She could ignore everything else and feel that, hiding herself in her training. 

Pain and pleasure could both be dreams. But giving in hadn't made anything feel settled. It had dredged at her reserves of control and she could feel tears choking her. She couldn't trade sex for protection and find out she'd gone to the wrong man for safety.

"Jane?"

He knew something was wrong. His hand curled around her belly and she remembered Allie was out in the city carrying his child. Jane hadn't been Kurt's priority before and now she had no chance. She let herself cry so it didn't notch up to the building scream. 

"Are you going to hurt me again?" 

Her voice was broken by gulping sobs and he went so pale Jane knew he hadn't understood her. Kurt took his hands off her and moved a little away. 

"Are you hurt? Did I - I asked you a couple of times, and you said yes," he said hurriedly. "I swear I heard you say yes."

"I did. That was just my body. I would have fought you if I didn't mean it," she said. "We were close before. It didn't matter once you found out I wasn't Taylor. You weren't going to listen. You never trusted me, you just barely knew me. Then when you did-"

He was speechless, eyes conflicted as he wrestled with his own memories. It was a mess of trauma they'd faced together and alone. 

"I was wrong, Jane. I was in pain."

"I would have told you everything. Anything you wanted to know if you'd just asked me. I loved you."

Kurt flinched visibly, fighting the blankets to get out. He stood up and found his pants, hauling them on angrily. "This is my fault. We shouldn't have done this and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you in any way, but I'm not ready to talk about it."

Jane felt herself hurting for him, too, and it dried up her tears better than any comfort. She'd been swallowing rage a long time, maybe her whole life. There was a lot festering. Some days, she understood why Remi was willing to forget herself to make things right. 

"Then listen!" She sat up on the bed, dragging the blanket up with her. "I don't remember not having to crawl in my whole life. I crawled out of a bag in this city without anything and you started looking after me. It wasn't all about the job. And the first time you felt doubt you gave up and threw me away. I was on my knees in handcuffs and I had no idea who I was, for the second time in months."

She'd had to leave Mayfair's body, and burn Oscar's. She'd limped back to what passed for safety and into a scene from Othello. She was the confused dreamer waking to accusations, and he was biting back his urge for revenge. Suspicion had killed his love while hers was peering out from a veil of tears. And Kurt Weller had no idea she'd fought for her life to return to him.

"Oscar was going to erase me again, as casually as he'd delete his email. He thought Remi had effectively killed herself with ZIP and he was going to kill me because I didn't trust him. I'm not allowed to be Taylor, everyone hates Jane and Alice Krueger might as well be a fictional character in a book I read."

Kurt drew a breath and she shook her head. There was a time when a single word from him would have felt like a fortune. She'd locked herself in silence for the CIA but a normal conversation with anyone she knew would have broken her in seconds. It was too late. 

"I'm not interested in apologies. I don't want to hear them and I don't want to give them," Jane told him bitterly. "Maybe I was a militant heartless bitch who wanted to play on your guilt to erode the FBI's power. And maybe I was a desperate woman who sacrificed everything that made me a person to save somebody I loved and would forget. Maybe the story is even crazier. I have family. One person who I know loved me, and I crippled his mind to save him.

"I can't answer your questions because I don't have answers. And I gave you my brother, so I can't let us become enemies. I don't have leverage. I don't have security. I have your good will, for now? Your vague, distanced support is the only thing keeping Roman and me from dying in a CIA blacksite."

His body looked like every word hit him, making him as tired as she felt and forming bruises like guilty fingerprints. Remi had survived in her dreams and warned her about Kurt Weller. Jane had fought it because happiness was hovering in her grasp. She'd seen her old self as a threat instead of a messenger.

But this night was too chaotic for anyone to have planned it, and Kurt would never force a woman into sex. She knew he hadn't forgotten that moment of fear and it was the only unfair part of what she'd said. 

"You didn't rape me. I wanted you. It's sick because I still want you. I still love you. And I can't risk any of it," she told him, meeting his eyes to see him acknowledge her concession.

"I can't depend on you like that because if you abandon me once more I won't have any strength. I would literally be in a position to starve in the gutter without you and the FBI. If Sandstorm didn't find me first and torture me or put a bullet in me, I'd be dead anyway."

She could live in a forest for weeks or months, gathering water and hunting for food. Modern life would treat her like an escaped zoo exhibit, too dangerous to live out with the good civilians of the world.

"I don't want to die. I'm willing to risk myself to make things right, but I'm here now. I'm Jane. I'm an ugly ragdoll of a person but I'm real. I need you to remember that because Shepherd - my terrorist mother - hates me. She would be very happy to see me with nothing before I die."

Her hold over him was waning, and he was moving around the room with some purpose. Jane ignored his quick breathing and focused on getting her words. She had never spoken so much. It felt like all they'd ever done had been one horrible, one-sided conversation. They were having a break-up scene now, so belated it felt like giving a history lesson.

"It was all real, even the lies because I didn't know the truth. I'm real. I'm a person who needs your protection more than anyone else you've ever met. If I don't have it, I don't know what I'm going to do," she finished weakly. "I can at least think about it, if I knew I had to."

He was crouched, attempting to gather up the clothes he'd stripped earlier in the night. Jane watched as Kurt dropped everything and planted his hands on the floor. He drew in air and let it seep out like he hadn't breathed before. 

"I can't love you because you broke my heart," he said quietly, rubbing at his chest. "It doesn't work, it's shards. I can't love anyone."

The confirmation was a foxfire light ghosting past them in the divide of in her bed and out of it. Jane knew what they'd nearly had, but this was the difference between hearing of a death and going to a funeral. The shock was over and everything was loss. 

"I don't need love," she told him, "I don't want things you don't want to give. Can you be my backup? Will you find a way to tell me if Roman and I need to go it alone?"

His head bowed and eyes closed, it almost looked like prayer. Maybe it was some very old impulse taught before his mother left. She could still picture him as a boy, tender in age and feelings. He'd only had a handful of good years, just like her. 

"I'd tell you."

He wiped his eyes and stood up, bending painfully to collect clothing. Some of it was hers, and he carefully draped it near her. Jane pulled her shirt on without letting go of the blanket. She was feeling washed out, and in need of a shower. 

She shuffled over the far side of the bed as Kurt finished getting dressed. He watched her put on a robe and cleared his throat. 

"I, uh, need you to come lock up the door behind me. I'm going to call your detail to take my parking space right in front of the door, and they will get that lock fixed tomorrow," he said. "If anyone asks about tonight, maybe we could tell them I'd intended to sleep on the sofa but I had to go to the office."

No one would ask, but she understood his real meaning. They wouldn't talk like this again, not until he had to warn her the FBI wasn't a safe harbour anymore. 

"The sofa is really uncomfortable. You could just say that. Then you can go sleep instead of back to the office," Jane said. 

"Yeah, that works."

"Can I have a minute to get dressed," she asked.

He went down the stairs quickly with a pause in the middle. Jane pulled on clean clothes, trying to find calm for when she opened the door to her guards. They knew her reasonably well and she needed to be convincing so Kurt didn't get in trouble with Pellington. It was very late, and she knew there was still a lot of gossip about how Weller was around her. She washed her face and tried to hide her red eyes by patting around them with cool water.

Life was tenuous for everyone, but her less than a year of choices had the weight of decades of trouble. She followed Weller out to the tiny entryway, cringing as they reenacted their earlier scene of his departure. It was a jumpy, nervous production to move around the open door without brushing arms. 

"Make sure they all lock and give a little knock before I go," Kurt said. He almost sounded normal.

She shut the door and locked him out, giving the signal and getting a little rap in return. He stood watch at her door and looked up and down the street, vigilant. He would die for her, but he couldn't feel anything beyond his own wounds.

It felt false and ridiculous. She watched him talk to the agents for quite a while before he drove away. Their SUV took his spot and she waved as they gave her their customary nods through the window. 

She should shower off Kurt's scent and change her sheets before she went back to bed. She should eat or work out or something. Her feet wandered to the uncomfortable sofa and she curled up to wait for morning.

Jane's eyes caught on a misplaced object in her sparse furnishings. Kurt had found her boots and put them neatly together, her socks folded across the toes. Her body felt hollow, thighs sore from having him just once to let the anguish bloom fully and never, ever heal.


End file.
